Needs of the Few
by Elrec
Summary: Sparrow and Rose take in a lost girl. After a lifetime of mistakes, can this nameless little one ever find salvation? As circumstances lead her farther into the wake of a nightmare, she is certain that neither God, nor Sparrow, will ever find her again.
1. Chapter 1

"Little Sparrow, did you hear something?" Rose whispered frantically. Little Sparrow always knew something was wrong whenever his sister's voice went up an extra octave like that. He opened his eyes reluctantly. In his dream, he had had a dog, and he had been standing, overlooking the sea. In the distance there was a tall, black, looming tower-like thing. It looked like God's finger, flipping the world off. But still, it had been such a nice dream. "Little Sparrow, do you hear that? It sounds like… it sounds like crying."

Little Sparrow cracked open one eye and squinted into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He propped himself up onto his elbows and peered around the tiny little three-walled shack he and his sister called home. It was a run-down, homely little place, but Little Sparrow and Rose didn't know that there was anything more than poor. No matter how bad circumstances may appear Rose always found a pleasure in cleaning: she swept and scrubbed away at the dirt coated floor, and she always managed to organize the small amount of food and beverages they were able to get a hold of in the corner (but right now that corner was empty). Except for the two little mats they call beds; the place was bare of furniture.

Rose was already sitting up straight, her eyes wide and shining in the darkness. The fear and worry was evident on her pale, malnourished face. Little Sparrow was confused. He was, by now, used to all the sounds of Bowerstone. The shouts and cries of drunken people were not uncommon; just the other night, Little Sparrow and Rose were awaken by a beggar, who, in his drunkenness, had stumbled into Rose and Little Sparrow's ramshackle house by accident. Little Sparrow was about to open his mouth to ask what exactly was bothering Rose, when he heard it too.

A slight whimper, a slight sniffling, and yet obviously a crying someone. It was hard to tell if it was animal or human, and that made the crying frightening. It was obviously _not_ a lost, drunken beggar.

"Do you think… do you that could be a hurt puppy?" Rose whispered frantically, raising herself to her knees and peering anxiously at the entrance. Her hair flopped in her face as it sometimes did whenever she left it down, but she pushed it out of her face, annoyed. She reached for her head band and hurriedly slipped it on, tying her hair up into its two familiar ponytails. She stood up abruptly, and peeked nervously back at Little Sparrow as she approached the door. Little Sparrow offered her an encouraging smile, hiding his own nervousness, insecurities, and weariness. He scrambled to his feet and went to stand beside his older sister, offering her an encouraging hand. Rose smiled at Little Sparrow, encouraged, then turned to face the open doorway to investigate the source of the crying sound.

Hand in hand, the siblings took a tentative step outside.

The sound was worse outside. It sounded like the soft crying was coming from all around them, everywhere. The thing was, no one else seemed able to hear the odd sobbing. A few feet away, a beggar snoozed easily, a bottle of Bowerstone Brown Beer balanced on his pot belly. Little Sparrow and Rose exchanged perplexed glances. Suddenly, the crying suddenly quieted, and Rose seemed a little more anxious than before.

"Do you think the puppy... passed out or somefink? Do you think it's hurt?" Rose whispered, slowly stepping out onto the deserted cobblestone street and looking around. Little Sparrow swung his head around, looking for the crying one, and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't so sure that the one crying was a dog. He wasn't so sure it was a was a sudden chill in the air, and Little Sparrow swung around to face his little shack of a home once again. He gasped.

Sitting there on the door step was a young girl who couldn't be more than four years old, which was five years younger than Little Sparrow himself. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, her skin so pale in the grimy moonlight. Two little black triangles were tattooed to her bottom eye lids, upside down, like some clowns did. Her hair was midnight black, a mess of curls on her thin shoulders. She wore nothing but a raggedy dress, and her feet were bare, scarred, scratched. a single blue scar was on her chin, corrupting her otherwise completely smooth, young face.

Little Sparrow reached around and turned Rose to face the strange little girl. Rose jumped at the sudden touch, and glanced curiously over her shoulder.

"Wha...?" She began to turn, but stopped halfway through the turn when she spotted the little girl with the sad face and black, black eyes. Her surprise was instantly replaced with a tender, kind expression that Little Sparrow loved to see on the face of his sister. And even though it might be the most obvious statement in the world, Little Sparrow loved his big sister. "Oh, hello, Little One. Are you lost?"

Little One looked at Rose and blinked her dark, shadowed eyes. Little One didn't know if she was lost. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who she was, or how she had gotten there. She open her trembling, black tinted lips to speak, but her breath caught and tears began rolling down her face once again. The tears were too blue- not just a clear, watery color, but blue, like blue paint was leaking out of her eyes. They left weird blue trails down her cheeks, then dissolved almost instantly.

"I- I- I don't know. I don't know where I- I- I am. I can't remember who I am. I don't think I'm lost..." Little One squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her voice was almost as odd as her tears. It held all of a child's squeakiness, held all of the babyish grammar mistakes, and yet at the same time it just sounded... different. She tried to look brave, but her face crumpled once again, and she was crying. "But how can I not be lost if I don't know where I am?"

Little One put her face in her tiny hands. Her fingernails were black, as if painted that way. Suddenly, Little Sparrow leapt forward. In three easy strides, he was there on the steps beside Little One. He looped his arm around her shoulders, and used his other gloved hand to turn her face towards his.

"Little One." He said. "We'll help you find your home, okay?"

"Promise?" Little One whispered, a final, single tear rolling down her cheek and dropping to the ground, where it splashed prettily.

Little Sparrow and Rose smiled at each other, sheepishly. They could barely afford to feed themselves- what if they couldn't find Little One's home? Oh well, they'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

"Promise." Little Sparrow and Rose said together.


	2. Chapter 2

Needs of the Few

Chapter 2

Little Sparrow's fingers slipped down the nameless girl's thin arms and curved around her small alabaster white fingers. He gently tugged her to her feet and tugged her out of the shadows of the building, into the moonlight so he and Rose could get a good look at her. The girl squinted, as if the moonlight burned her eyes and was too bright. In the moonlight, the girl looked much worse. Her feet were swollen and blistered, and Little Sparrow realized her ragged brown dress and heavy black curls were soaking wet.

"You're wet!" Rose cried. "That means death during the winter! C'mon! You need to take off those wet clothes! Dry your hair! Oh, your feet! Those cuts look infected! Come on, let's get inside." Rose said, scooping the girl up in her arms. Little Sparrow smiled. Rose really DID remind him of Mom, sometimes.

They marched into their little shelter. Rose deposited the little girl onto Rose's own sleeping mat. The little girl sat on the sleeping mat, shivering.

"Little Sparrow, turn away." Sparrow wasn't really sure why he was being forced the wall, but he assumed there was a good reason so he willingly turned and, quizzically, faced the wall. Rose then said: "Okay, Little One, take off that wet dress or you'll freeze."

Even though what Rose said was purely logical, Little Sparrow's cheeks flushed an impressive shade of maroon and his back stiffened. Little Sparrow wasn't sure how the little one reacted, but she seemed to listen without arguing. After a few moments of muffled scuffling, Rose said: "Okay, there Sparrow, it's safe for you to turn around now."

Sparrow hesitantly turned around. Rose was sitting on the dusty old crate she used as a bed side stand, and sitting at her feet was the little girl, who blinked sheepishly up at Sparrow. She was wrapped in Rose's old, ratty, thin blanket, her tiny black-nailed, blistered feet peeking out from beneath the blanket. Rose was running her ivory handled comb through the little girl's tangled black curls. Rose's comb was one of her most prized possessions. Not only was it pretty and actually worth something, but it kept her and Sparrow's hair moderately clean and tangle-free. Now it was working it's wonders on the mysterious little girl's tangles, black curls.

She didn't whimper or cry, and those odd blue tears had ceased, but it was obvious it was hurting her, at least a little. With every tug of Rose's comb, the girl grimaced. Sparrow sunk into his sleeping mat, pulling the thin, moth-eaten blanket up to his chin, his eyes never once straying room the strange little girl's glowing blue, scar-riddled face.

He must have fallen asleep, because (though he couldn't really tell how long it was), later he woke up as Rose snuggled under the blanket with him.

"How is she?" Sparrow whispered into the darkness.

"Asleep. Those cuts and blisters on her feet will heal eventually. But…" Rose shivered and tucked her hands under her armpits. "Those blue scars on her face are really strange. I don't know what could have caused them. There's a few on her arms too. And her nails aren't painted and that's not make up on her face. She's just… like that. I wonder why?" Rose mused.

"Maybe it's magic." Sparrow suggested half jokingly.

Rose snorted. "There's no such thing as magic." She yarned. "Whatever. Let's go to sleep now. It's going to be a long day tomorrow. I have no idea where we're going to find food. Maybe someone will have jobs for us to do so we could some food or money…."

Sparrow nodded and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Echo tromped behind Rose, her little hand in Sparrow's. Bowerstone was a very crowded place during the day Vendors selling meat, fish, clothes, and pies put up shop and harked their wares. Beggars sat at the bridge, their clothes tattered and their backs up against the small walls on either side of the bridge's edge. Drunkards leaned in the tavern and in doorways, travelers meandered throughout the town, their clothes dusty and their eyes tired. Prostitutes hung on the arms of hungry looking rich men, laughing loudly. Then there were the actual residents of Bowerstone, that stalked the streets in crowds.

It was a sea of gaunt, gray, unfriendly faces.

Echo twisted her head this way and that, trying to take in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds all at once. Sparrow tugged Echo's hand gently, excitedly. "Look, Echo! They're giving away soup!"

Echo looked straight ahead There stood a beastly tall man in a wrinkled black suit and a maroon-ish purple tie. His golden blond hair was combed neatly and tucked behind his ears. A pair of thin farmed glasses perched upon his slanting, pointy nose. They kept sliding down his nose and he had to constantly reach up and shove them back into place with his long, long finger. A big black cauldron was balanced on a large crate simmered merrily by his hip, and his hands held a large ladle.

An old croon reached up trembling, gnarled hands to offer the tall man a rusting cup. Smiling a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the man carefully spooned some of the thick, delicious looking soup into the rusting bowl. The old croon cried out her thanks, and she snatched her now full bowl back and scurried away.

"C'mon! Let's hurry before the line gets any longer… or if he runs out! Look! The line's already getting long!" Rose cried out. Without hesitating, she seized Sparrow's available hand and yanked him hard to follow. Echo's eyes widened and her heart leapt as she felt Sparrow 's fingers slide out of her own. Sparrow looked over his shoulder at Echo , his mouth open as he called "Echo!" his eyes fierce.

"Sparrow!" Echo yelped, her voice sounding eery and echo-y even to herself. She reached out but he was already gone- disappearing into a sea of faces. The current of moving bodies pulled her along the cobblestone street, jostling her and pushing against her from all sides. She suddenly felt very claustrophobic. "Sparrow-" She tried to call again, but suddenly someone pushed her from behind. She felt large, rough hands on her back, and heard a loud, slurred voice hiss: "Hurry it up, girl!" But she stumbled over a crack in the street and watched as the ground rushed up to greet her face.

Echo discovered that her blood her blood held a certain metallic taste. Her teeth had clamped down hard on her tongue, and blood trickled down from her nose and into her mouth. She tried to raise herself up onto her hands and knees, but the crowd was unrelenting. Knees and feet unintentionally kicked at Echo painfully. She yelped and crawled a few feet, but it wasn't long before she found herslef sprawled out pitifully on the ground again.

"Well lookie what we have here." A shaggle-toothed man said, peering down at the helpless Echo. She cowered as he loomed over her. "A little girlie all by her lonesome. Now, these streets can be dangerous. Let me help you up girlie…" He reached out a grubby hand toward Echo. She squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her head away.

"No!" But it wasn't Echo who cried out. No, Echo glanced around herself and there was Sparrow. He had his slingshot drawn and was pointing at the mangy-looking man looming over Echo. he looked very sinister there in all his ten-year-old glory. His eyes were narrowed and fierce, his mouth set in an intense scowl. The rock he was using as ammo was especially painful looking. The man must have realized this because he lifted his hands and began to slowly back away.

"Now, now…" The man laughed nervously.

"Scram!" Sparrow shouted, and the man did, turning on his heel and running down the street.

"Th-thank you Spar-" Echo began, but couldn't finish because Sparrow had put away his sling-shot and pulled Echo into a tight, tight hug. He pecked her quickly on the forehead with his lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" Sparrow gasped, pulling away and clutching Echo by the choulders tightly. "I'd- I'd thought I'd lost you."

"It wouldn't have been that big of a loss." Echo mumbled, abached. She bowed her head, allowing her black curls to curtain her flaming face. "You hardly know me. I've only been with you for a few days."

"Rose has never let me have a pet," Sparrow admitted.

"You consider me a pet?" Echo laughed. It echoed.

They laughed, and a snowflake landed on Echo's nose. They both looked up. Sure enough, churning gray clouds were there, promising inches of snow. "Snow!" Echo gasped happily.

"Rose is going to be upset." Sparrow sighed. He turned to Echo. "Speaking of which, we better get back to her before she starts to worry. She'll be waiting for us in the soup line." Echo offered him her hand, but he shook his head, turned his back to her, and knelt onto his knees. He smiled at her over his shoulder. "I don't want to risk losing you again. Hop on."

Echo grinned and wound her arm's around Sparrow's shoulders. She hadn't realized her feet were aching until she brought her weight off them and felt relief. Sparrow was better at weaving through the crowd than Echo. He ducked his head under angled elbows, and wove between bodies like a pro. It wasn't long before they inconspicuously sidled into line beside Rose.

Rose turned to the two younger children, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed, but the relief was evident in her eyes. She looked very much like a mother. "Where have you been!" She shrieked. "I wasn't worried, you know! If we'd lost you then there'd be one less mouth to feed." Rose sighed, and brought a hand to her brow, a slight smile on her thin lips. "But you know? Somehow I've taken a liking to you. So please. Don't ever do that again."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. My hand slipped." Echo apologized, hiding halfway behind Sparrow. He grinned and slipped his hand snugly into hers.

Rose blew at her bangs, then turned forward. "Alright then."

They three stood there, shivering as snow slowly drifted down around them. Ahead of them in line, a woman with a too-tight corset and a billowing dress hung over a man with a toothless grin. Her hair was done up in elaborate curls and loops, but it was obviously a sloppy, rushed job. She stank of whiskey and smoke. She was slurring out little nothings to the man with the toothless grin. Rose's back grew rigid,a nd she turned away to face instead Sparrow and Echo. Her arms were crossed and her face was twisted in disgust.

"Is Arur still telling you those things?" Sparrow asked gently.

"Yes, he is." Rose sniffed sullenly. She narrowed her eyes and her jaw set in prise and dignity. "We'll never be THAT hungry."

"What? Who's Arufur? What'd he say?" Echo asked.

"He's a terrible man who thinks I'd stoop as low as…" Rose jerked her head in the direction of the woman with too-much make up. She was now kissing the toothless man, and he slipped a gold coin into her gloved hand. Seeing the confuzzled look upon Echo's face, Sparrow further elaborated.

"She's a prostitute," Sparrow said, nodding at the woman.

"What's that?' Asked Echo innocently.

"Um…" Sparrow shifted his weight uncomfortable. "They sell-" Rose cleared her throat warningly.

"Kisses?" Echo asked, puzzled.

Rose laughed. "Yeah sure. Kisses."

"Sparrow kissed me." Echo said. She pointed to her forehead. "Right here. Is he a prostitute?"

Rose burst out laughing and Sparrow blushed deeply. "Yes, yes, he's a Ifilthy/I man whore."

"My Echo…" Sparrow moaned, covering his face with a hand. "You're not supposed to tell the Iworld/I."

"Sorry…" Echo said. But all three cold, hungry kids quieted because after the prostitute was served her soup, then it would be Itheir/I turn. But, as Echo watched a horrible sick feeling came into her stomach. Because the prostitute handed the gold coin she had just received to the man serving soup. She blew him a kiss, then hurried away to where the toothless man was waiting eagerly.

"Three bowls of soup, please." Rose said, brightly, eager for free food.

"You didn't bring your own bowl?" the man asked, smiling a smile that didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were cold, hard, black orbs. Sparrow and Rose exchanged worried glances. But the man plucked three cheap tin bowls from behind the pot. "No worries. Just an extra gold piece for a bowl too."

"You mean- you mean it's not Ifree/I?" Rose asked, her broad grin faltering.

The man laughed. "Of course not."

The dejected broken look on Rose's face broke Echo's hear. "C'mon Little Sparrow, Echo." Rose sniffed. Shoulders slouched, she began down the street, quickly followed by her brother. Echo began to follow but a sudden idea came to her. She turned back to the man.

"Mister…?" She whispered.

"Call me Mosca. But sorry dear, no hand outs." Mosca said, sneering.

"I know." Echo said determined. "I'll give you a kiss for some soup."

Mosca laughed heartily at that. "A kiss?"

"Like a prostitute, but for some food instead." Echo said, nodding eagerly.

"Alright." Mosca said, a little too quickly. Echo was surprised. She had thought ash would have to try and convince him some more. But he lifted her up so they were face to face. "Only a kiss, dear?"

"Yes…" Echo said hesitantly. What did he mean by 'only a kiss'? But she didn't have time to think of this because suddenly she was getting her money's worth. Mosca's kiss wasn't like Sparrow's quick little peck on the forehead, which had felt like snow, clean and white, like tulips and strawberries and blue. Mosca tasted fierce and hot and rought. His lips moved and caressed Echo's own, his tongue gently skimming her lower lip. Then he pries her lips apart and she nearly choked on his tongue. Their teeth clinked together. Finally, when Echo began to struggle for breath, she twisted her head away. She regarded Mosca, dazed.

Mosca laughed. "Never been kissed before, Honeysuckle?"

Honeysuckle?

"Not- like- that!" Echo gasped. She didn't like the way that had happened. But she, Sparrow, ahnd Rose had a meal that night. The siblings didn't know how, and Echo hoped they never would.

Her lips burned with shame.


End file.
